


maybe spring.

by snowangels



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Spirits, Wonpil Is Dead, the lovely bones inspired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 02:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowangels/pseuds/snowangels
Summary: his smile was too big, his eyes wouldn't look at his directly, but he still held that energetic and lively but soft and quiet tone when he spoke."you're dead, kim wonpil."





	maybe spring.

He could feel something cold and delicate land on his face, freezing the tip of his nose and melting away into his warm skin. He didn't possibly know what it was; his eyes were closed and, in the comfort of his bedroom, he shouldn't be feeling anything land on him. It could be a leak, he supposed, but he couldn't remember ever seeing a rainy day on the weekly weather reports.

 

He scrunched his nose in confusion when the cold something fell on his nose again, and moved around to get away. But when his hands felt beneath him, he didn't feel his soft blankets or his favorite teddy bear, but instead he felt what he thought was grass graze his fingers.

 

His eyes opened instantly. He blinked quickly a few times, seeing the light blue sky above him that started to drop more and more snowflakes by the second. He widened his eyes, and sat up, regretting it as his stiff muscles ached. Still, he ignored the slight discomfort as he took in his surrondings. Nothing but the sky and grass lightly covered by snow, a white and grey gazebow behind him. He felt a certain familiarity looking at it, and stood up slowly to walk towards it.

 

"Wonpil."

 

He turned to look behind him. Another boy with faded blondeish-brown hair and soft, pale skin stood there, snowflakes disapearing on his exposed skin. He was wearing less layers than wonpil, a simple t-shirt and blue jeans with a rip in the knees, white converse noticably dirty against the canvas of white and green. Wonpil himself had on a shirt, jacket, and coat, pink snow boots covering his feet that were wearing two pairs of cutely designed socks. But he didn't have time to think about how cold the stranger must be, because his first thought was to wonder how he possibly knew his name.

 

"H-how do you know my name?" Wonpil stammered, and then looked around again before continuing, "And where are we?"

 

The boy smiled, small but reassuring. He remained silent, taking small steps towards wonpil until he could reach out his hand for the confused boy to take. Wonpil wasn't going to at first, was going to reject the strange person who wouldn't answer his questions, but something inside him told him to take it. So he did, rising a shaking hand and watched as both their small hands laced together. The other boy was cold though, ice cold.

 

"Are you ready?" The boy asked in a whisper.

 

Wonpil scrunched his nose again, "Ready for what?"

 

The stranger smiled again, that same small smile that made his soft features even more pleasent to look at. He walked forward, pulled Wonpil's hand a little when the other didn't budge. The shorter moved with him then, walking towards the gazebo that he had earlier been looking at. It looked much farther away now than it had before.

 

It took them a minute or so to reach the gazebo, and they sat side by side when they did. The stranger didn't let go of Wonpil's hand when they sat, but instead grabbed his other and looked towards him with the most saddest expression. His smile was too big, his eyes wouldn't look at his directly, but he still held that energetic and lively but soft and quiet tone when he spoke.

 

"You're dead, Kim Wonpil."

 

...

 

Wonpil could always remember playing piano. From a young age, his eyes always lit up at the sight of his family old, brown, wooden one, making as much noise with the keys as he could with his tiny toddler hands. When he got old enough, he asked for lessons, begged on his knees for them, and was granted his wish. He practiced everyday, worked and worked until he perfected every song he learned. It was his passion, what drove him to look forward to the future, and his dream was to make music with the instrument as he sung on a stage one day.

 

His eyes could only look at his families piano now as he moved throughout the house, making his way towards the living room as he heard the voice of someone he hadn't heard in quite some time.

 

"Aunt Chaewon," Wonpil mumbled as he walked into the room. He was suprised she had heard him, with his voice being so quiet, but she turned as soon as she heard her name. A big grin settled onto her features, walking forward with her arms open and pulling her nephew into a hug with a soft but firm grip.

 

"Wonpillie, my baby," She cooed as she pulled away, "Ah, so much older now. Still, doesn't keep you from getting my presents."

 

Wonpil's mom laughed from her spot on the couch, but didn't take her eyes off Wonpil's younger sister as she said, "You spoil him too much."

 

"I don't," Chaewon retorted. Wonpil watched as she then walked over to the couch and grabbed a small, wrapped box. It was given to Wonpil quickly.

 

"Sit down and open it, honey," His aunt instructed. Wonpil could only follow, deciding to sit down beside his older brother who was inspecting a box of, what Wonpil guessed was, shark teeth.

 

Wonpil's aunt traveled a lot, and most times it was to places Wonpil could only dream of visiting. Thailand, Russia, Finland, and even just Flordia, Wonpil swore that his aunt had visited almost every place on Earth. The small boy could only dream of leaving his small town and going to far away places. Maybe one day, if his dreams came true.

 

He gently ripped the paper from the brown, cardboard box. When all was gone, he removed the tape from the too flaps and opened the box. Inside, there was a snowglobe. Wonpil gasped quietly, gently taking the object out and inspecting it instantly. The bottom was a full, silver color, and inside, a big snowflake sat. He shook the object softly, not wanting to be too rough with it, and watched as the snow fluttered all around inside. When every last piece fell into place at the bottom, he finally looked up at his aunt with a big, toothy smile.

 

"Thank you," Wonpil beamed, beginning to open his arms to hug her but remmebering that he still held his present in his small hands. He sat it back in the box with steady hands and then stood up to give Chaewon a big hug, which she accepted greatfully.

 

He took the snowglobe and placed it on his desk as the sun settled down. Snow from outside fell down gracefully along with his own artifical one, swirling around his snowglobe with every little shake. Wonpil swore that he could sit there for hours and just watch the snow rise and fall again and again, dance around the giant silver snowflake inside.

 

Wonpil couldn't sit for hours though, and fell asleep to the muffled sounds of his parents and Chaewon talking in the kitchen. His thoughts were a wanted dream, the small boy imagining a scene where snow fell pretty onto the ground and christmas lights strung across houses. He imagined the cold air biting at his skin and through his layers of clothes, but could still feel hear as he imagine snow sitting delicatly on top of the head of his crush.

 

...

 

The first time Wonpil meets Younghyun he's staring up at him with admiration in his eyes and a wide smile on his face. The older boy looked down at him with a curious sort of look, but a twinge of annoyance that was fading every second.

 

The two were forced to talk to one another by their mothers, who decided it'd be a good time to catch up and drink tea outside on Younghyun’s moms backporch that spring day. Younghyun had groaned a little at the thought of having to talk to someone younger than him, but now that he was looking at the small boy, it was hard to be annoyed. He looked adorable, looked as if he wanted to please everyone and spread hapiness to every inch he could place it.

 

"I'm Kim Wonpil," The younger boy mumbled in a shy, soft voice, holding out his hand sheepishly but still keeping that big smile on his face. Younghyun almost cooed at the sight, the boy reminding him of his own baby brother, but then he mentally slapped himself.

 

Younghyun took the boys smaller hand into his, shaking it lightly as he replied, "Kang Younghyun."

 

"Can I call you Hyunnie?" Wonpil asked with a fake pout, probably to heighten his chances of getting to use the nickname. Younghyun’s heart tightened with fondness, making him form a small smile. He wanted to protect Wonpil from anyone like a big brother, suddenly.

 

"Sure," Younghyun answered, and then grabbed the smallers hand and started to tug him lightly towards his swingset. He swung Wonpil and helped him build a block tower in his playhouse until his mom said it was time for him to go. They had both said sorrow goodbyes, their moms promising them they could play again soon.

 

That promise was kept, and over the years, they may have not played in a playhouse or hide-n-seek, but they did keep swinging. Sometimes when they were supposed to be studying, Younghyun would randomly place his book on the ground and start to push Wonpil with a grin on his face. Wonpil would sometimes squeal in suprise, or maybe yell at Younghyun for making him drop his book, but he'd always end up grinning back at him a minute later.

 

Maybe he even fell in love once, on those swings. After Younghyun had finished pushing him, Wonpil had watched the older boy sit back down on the swing beside him, his grin still on his face. He looked so happy, and it made Wonpil happy too. The older always made him happy, made him feel loved. It was stupid to him that he would smile at the thought of the older, pushing him on the swing, helping him with a math problem, pushing him down onto his bed just to lean in and kiss him.

 

Wonpil could imagine the last thought perfectly even if it hadn’t happened yet, and it scared him. He wasn’t supposed to like boys, he wasn’t supposed to like Younghyun. It was wrong, very wrong. But the smaller couldn’t control his feelings, no matter how hard he wished he could.

 

...

 

“I can’t be dead.”

 

The stranger let out a small sigh, and then leaned foward and took hold of Wonpil’s hand. His hand still felt cold, deathly cold, and it made Wonpil stand up and wrench his hand back. He started to stumble backwards, then tripped over the Gazebow’s step and fell onto his butt in the snow that had started to pile more and more.

 

“You are, but it’s okay,” The boy mumbled, trying to sound reassuring and soothing, “It’ll be okay, Wonpil.”

 

“Shut up! Just tell me where I am!” Wonpil shouted, tears started to spring to his eyes because he was so cold, so so cold, where was he? He wanted to go home.

 

The cold boy’s face fell emotionless. He finally stood from where he sat on the gazebo, walking towards the end where Wonpil fell and sitting on the step. He sighed again, brought his chin to his cupped hands to hold his head in them.

 

“This is where you will decided whether to stay,” The boy explained, “Or let go.”

 

“You’re insane.”

 

“I am not lying. You are dea-“

 

“Stop!” Wonpil turned around, tears still close to spilling as he became more and more confused, “Just tell me how to get home.”

 

The stranger looked at him for a few seconds, half a minute at max. He looked sad again, pity sparkling in his eyes. Wonpil wanted to ask why (he was so so confused), but the stranger spoke before he could.

 

“I can show you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> ahh pls leave comments and kudos pls !!!! >< im going to try and make these chapters longer, and im working very hard on this so i hope it turns out okay owo! <3


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